Of all the elements of writing, Voice still puzzles me. Is it, perhaps, a way of seeing things and relating them? Which again, is troubling because we do think differently than we speak sometimes.
Wet, being wet, the difference is obviously visual as well as affecting the senses of touch, smell, taste and hearing.
Touch – Imparting something of itself upon the toucher, something that can be felt as different, cold or warm, slippery, moving, prickles of drizzle, softness of snow, bodies of water caressing upon entry and fitting tight as a glove, and leaving its mark upon the fingertip to share the experience.
Smell – Wet pavement, grass, lilacs heavy and poignant, fur coming back to life in a coat, air thicker and fresher with promise of rain, old wood still fragrant, human hair untarnished with Herbal Essence.
Taste – Sweetness of cooked carrots or raw, and the same with onions, stealing their pungency; clean of raindrops, metallic of pipes, well water tasting of rocks much like a stream, salty oceans, crisp rose petals like lettuce, snowflakes flat and cold air on the tongue.
Hearing – Beating of torrential downpours, humming down drainpipes, plinking in puddles, pounding whoosh of surf, tinkling of streams, gushing of waterfalls, mixing with melody in someone’s daily shower.
Sight – Sticking, slimming, drooping of a living being; vivid and deepened greens of grass and leaves and yellower meadows; polish and shine of buildings and streets; contrasting blacks and brownish grays of treebark; washed white fences; adding diamonds to a necklace of twigs; hobnailing flat raindrop-catching surfaces; birthing oceans in swales; doubling upside-down traffic on mirrors of highways; coloring the sky bluer after the rain.
Dry world versus wet world, I suppose, and what we make of it.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology